


A Mile Wide

by Hollybush



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: A little angst, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, I wrote this instead of hating Mondays, M/M, but mostly fluff i think, it's how i roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 02:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14906706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollybush/pseuds/Hollybush
Summary: He’d slept fitfully, knowing Oliver would be on the train out of his life come morning and he’d have to go home and somehow live.But then they’re at the train station, train coming in, his hands fisted in Oliver’s shirt and instead of ‘goodbye’, Oliver says ‘Come with me’.





	A Mile Wide

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that though I have done the road trip thing in the USA, I am not American and I don’t live in the US. Anything that seems wrong, probably is. Let’s just say I’ve taken liberties?  
> It’s the journey that counts after all, not the destination.  
> (that said, any glaring errors you point out, I’ll fix. I’m not a Philistine :))

**_A Mile Wide_ **

__

 

*

 

It’s not gone like he expected it would. He’d slept fitfully, knowing Oliver would be on the train out of his life come morning and he’d have to go home and somehow _live_.

But then they’re at the train station, train coming in, his hands fisted in Oliver’s shirt and instead of ‘goodbye’, Oliver says ‘Come with me’.

He stares at his face, trying to decipher if this is Oliver thinking he’s funny, but his face is as serious as he’s seen it and he looks a little nervous, a twitch in the corner of his mouth.

“Seriously?”

He’s aware he sounds younger than is for perhaps the first time. Oliver grins then, relief plain on his face, his eyes three shades lighter than only minutes before.

“Seriously.”

He hears Oliver say something about calling his parents and getting his clothes and did he have his passport, but Elio only hears that train whistle and knows he has to act now, _now_ , before the train goes and the time spent waiting for the next one gives Oliver time to change his mind. He grabs the duffel at his feet and pushes Oliver towards the cabin door, following him in. He looks at Oliver who looks back at him and they both grin.

 

*

 

They’re both giddy as well as nervous, the entire train ride spent bumping their legs into each other and smiling like fools. They order a drink off the trolley and share a sandwich as they stand in line to get Elio a seat on the plane. Oliver pays for it and it makes Elio feel guilty because Oliver pays his own way, he’s told them so, and the last thing he ever wants is to be a burden to anyone, to Oliver.

His face is so easy to read for Oliver so of course he reads this too. He tells Elio not to worry, not to worry at all in fact, because he’d gladly pay double and Oliver really doesn’t seem troubled but Elio still begs his dad to transfer money to him.

His parents agree without too many questions. The questions will be there when he gets back, Elio knows, but his parents are patient enough to let them keep for a while and they trust him. They trust Oliver too, and Elio likes that they’re not nearly as surprised as they probably should be. They know him well because he’s never had to be anybody but himself. He will thank them later, his head in his mother’s lap, as she tries to soothe his aches and pains away.

                                                                                                                  

*

 

He tells Oliver the money is coming in soon and he’ll pay him back but all Oliver does is smile at him and kiss him in the empty airport bathroom.

Oliver makes a phone call or two while Elio fidgets just out of hearing range. He doesn’t want to act like a nosy brat even though he really is one, nor does he want to _ask_ Oliver about those calls. Oliver is here with him and that’s all he’s going to focus on.

 

*

 

They buy Elio jeans and a tooth brush at one of the airport shops, Oliver handing him a sweatshirt from his suitcase that he vows never to return, and they both fall asleep on the flight to New York before they can have a decent talk about the what the hell they’re doing.

In New York, Oliver seems to hesitate briefly, stares at the signs for the taxis and public transport, before directing them to the airline desk. For a minute, Elio is sure Oliver will buy him a return and send him on his way but he keeps his fears to himself. Even if Oliver did exactly that, he’s not sure it’s his place to complain. He doesn’t have a life to get back to and though Oliver hasn’t spoken much about his life during the past few weeks, Elio is aware there are people and deadlines and expectations waiting. Oliver returns with two tickets though, not one, and barely an hour later, they’re on their way to Seattle.

 

*

 

The first days, he waits. For Oliver to change his mind, for his parents to call, for Oliver’s life to beckon but none of that happens.

They simply go wherever the road takes them. He doesn’t know if Oliver has a destination in mind, but _he_ doesn’t. The USA is not home to him as it is to Oliver, who just _fits_.

Or maybe he makes himself fit wherever he is, and Elio knows that really just means that Oliver probably doesn’t actually fit anywhere but he’s learned to make do.

Elio hasn’t because he’s never completely fit anywhere but at home. At home, with his parents, he fits. He is accepted, completely, for who is and he knows how lucky that makes him. He doesn’t need Oliver to tell him that but he still appreciates Oliver saying it because it reminds Elio to be grateful, something he isn’t nearly enough.

 

*

 

They stay in Seattle for a few days and they traipse around the city, trying coffee at every place that offers a brew they don’t know.

They watch tourists buy overpriced sun hats from the vendors who yell at each other from across the street, smiling and smoking cigarettes in the sun. Elio wonders who they go home to and if life is as simple to them as they make it seem.

They take a ferry to Bainbridge island and they slowly make their way across the island, bare feet in green grass, sweet tea in hand.

Still, Elio waits.

 

*

 

It’s when they visit the Space Needle that Elio stops waiting. He takes his time walking around, taking in the sights but also the fact that he’s here at all, the strange turn his life has taken.

Oliver reads every information label they come across, hungry for something to learn. It’s not just the scholar in him, it’s just _him_. Elio wants to throw himself at Oliver and tell him that maybe he’s not grateful often enough, but he’s grateful for Oliver just being who he is. He’s not quite sure what they’re doing and what Oliver means by all this, though, so he doesn’t.

He looks up just as Oliver does the same and when Oliver’s eyes come to rest on his, Elio realizes that Oliver is not running or regretting this or merely tolerating Elio’s presence; he genuinely wants his company. He asked him to come because he wanted Elio with him and he’s happy now that he is. He smiles at Oliver, wide and unabashedly and is rewarded with a smile just as wide and true.  

The moment passes but his eyes stay don’t stray very far and neither does his smile.

 

 

They stare at the view for what feels like hours and when it nears closing time and all the families, tired and hungry, start to make their way downstairs, Oliver takes Elio’s hand and he doesn’t let go until the elevator doors open and Elio thinks that maybe that’s Oliver’s way of saying exactly what Elio’s been wanting to say.

 

*

 

They rent a car in Seattle and drive down to Oregon. They make fun of the signs that say they’re entering Bigfoot territory, but the smiles are only half of what they’re saying and when they have dinner at a backwoods diner that evening, they spend three hours discussing all the possibilities of Sasquatch and they buy a map from the tourist office the next day and spend another 4 days chasing tails. They both know they’re chasing dreams, though, so it’s not that funny but it is a kind of magic Elio didn’t think he’d ever, ever experience.

He’s counted on a lot of things, going to a good school, being moderately successful, finding a city to feel at home in. It comes with growing up in a family rich in both money and love. He’d never counted on falling in love, though, and especially not on being loved back. It’s a heady sensation and it takes up so much space that there’s hardly anything left for anything else.

 

*

 

They stop in a place that’s supposed to be famous for its cheese and they go out and try to find it. They find a hole in the wall that claims to serve the best chili and they try that too. They go to the movie theatre that offers one film and sit in the back and hold hands and it makes Elio want to laugh and cry at the same time, so he does. He keeps quiet so he doesn’t disturb the other people in the room, but Oliver, of course, knows everything about Elio and he tightens his hold and kisses the top of his head, twice and very slowly. A press of lips to frizzy hair. He feels the flush down to his toes.

 

 

*

 

Halfway on the road to Portland, they stop for lunch and the manager there sits down with them, talking a mile a minute before sending them on their way, insisting they take a detour she writes down for them on a napkin. They have no reason to say no so they go. They drive the fruitloop route, feeling lost but in a good way, among the endless orchards, until they’re forced to a stop at a farm, where they get out and buy jam and bread and honey and they spend the rest of the day in the grass. Elio’s pretty sure they’re trespassing on someone’s land but there’s no one around, not for miles, and it’s so quiet he’s sure that anyone coming close enough to see them would be heard a mile off.

They sit in the grass, dipping bread straight into the jars and Elio can’t stop thinking about that first kiss in that berm thousands of miles away and it’s not that he wants to go back but he’s feeling a little melancholy and it doesn’t mix particularly well with the elation of being here, with Oliver, in yet another patch of sun-dappled grass, and the fear of knowing this will have to end at some point. He wonders if Oliver can tell what he’s feeling or if he’s just equally reminded of their berm, but then Oliver leans forward and traces his bottom lip and Elio knows that yes, Oliver is thinking about that.

Oliver pulls at his arm though, drags him over to drape across his body, all warm skin touching warm skin and they kiss and kiss and kiss and they’re both closer to that berm and farther away than ever before.

 

 

 

*

 

There’s halfway famous waterfalls along the route, where they stop and stare at the families clambering in and out of mini-vans before making their way op a hiking trail that’s not so much a hiking trail as a walking trail. They don’t dally on the trails because there are too many people around and though it’s nice enough, they’ve both seen prettier spots than this one. They agree it makes them spoilt and perhaps a bit snobby but they buy ice creams when they get back down and they linger for the sunshine and the company and Oliver, his hair moist with sweat, his eyes so bright they hurt to look at, tells him that that is what should count the most. Elio looks back at him, his feet touching Oliver’s thighs and his fingers itching to do the same, thinks this will always be the only thing that counts.  

 

 

*

 

They go to San Francisco and they check in in a hotel right in the middle of the city. The manager doesn’t even look up when Oliver asks for a room, just hands them a key and points them to the staircase. When they open the door, there’s one king-size bed and one dresser and the bathroom is an alarming shade of fuchsia. Elio wants to ask Oliver if he’s been here before because he doesn’t seem surprised or in any way uncomfortable but he doesn’t really want to know the answer, so he just changes his jeans and his shirt and follows Oliver out the door.

The question is answered to some capacity when Oliver takes him to a club where Elio technically should never be allowed but they let him in anyway. Elio knows it’s because the doorman took one look at Oliver and liked what he saw. He feels like a child here, a sensation slightly unfamiliar to him, but Oliver looks back at him, grins and grabs his hand as he directs them towards the bar. The sensation of feeling like a child is battled away by the sensation of Oliver’s hands on his hips as he pushes him forward. They get to the bar and Oliver presses him into the bar, a little rough and randy, his cock pressing into Elio’s back. He takes a deep breath and refuses to look anywhere but at the bartender.

“Just one drink,” Oliver’s voice is hot and heavy in Elio’s ear, “for both of us.”

They end up having two, but only because their next round is bought for them. Elio, following Oliver’s example, salutes the buyer in thanks and then goes back to dancing. When the guy later approaches not Oliver but Elio, Oliver declares it time to go.

He doesn’t say anything but once they’re outside, he looks at Oliver and quirks an eyebrow, his eyes bright and his cheeks glowing.

“Yeah, I’m not letting some horny old guy get his hands all over you, forget it.”

Elio grins because he’s drunk enough not to overthink things as he’s prone to do but not so drunk he’s going to be sick. It’s the perfect amount of drunk and he likes Oliver a lot.

“Aren’t you a horny old guy too? You’re getting your hands all over me.”

Oliver throws his t-shirt in Elio’s face in answer.

“Yeah, but you like my hands.”

“I like all of you.”

Oliver puts his large hands on both of Elio’s cheek and holds him like’s he’s delicate, precious.

“I like all of you too.”

And he leans forward, hands still in place and kisses Elio’s forehead, his nose, the corner of his mouth. First one side, then the other, before he lowers his hands down Elio’s back, his long fingers slipping underneath the waistband of his jeans. Elio just goes with it, leaning back, his hands fumbling and slightly shaky, as Oliver lowers his mouth down to his neck.

It’s because he’s happy and drunk that he tries to ruin it. It’s perfectly in line with what he expects of himself.

“How long till this is over?”

Oliver keeps kissing his neck though, lower and lower, unbuttoning his shirt, licking his way down.

“I don’t know. I …..I don’t know. But not yet, Okay?”

“Okay.”

And then Oliver gets his hands all over him but it’s okay because he gets his hands all over Oliver too.

 

*

 

Elio wants to see the sunrise from the Golden Gate Bridge and he refuses to listen to Oliver when he tells him that he’s going to have to get up at about 3 to even get there on time and there’s always cars on the bridge and it’s just not going to be as great as Elio seems to think it is.

Elio shrugs and sets the alarm for three, and when he gets up, Oliver does too.

Oliver is right, of course, it pretty much sucks because it’s chilly and foggy and there’s still cars, even at 5 am, but he doesn’t know if he’s ever been happier and that counts for something too.

 

*

 

They have to go back to New York eventually, or at least Oliver does. They don’t talk about it.

Instead, they pack up and leave San Francisco and its vibrancy in the rearview mirror and drive up to Eureka, where they spend the whole day just sitting by the waterside. They drink fruity beer from soda bottles and Oliver sings _sitting on the dock of the bay_ until Elio kisses him into silence.  They go back to the hotel pretty quickly after that. It’s hot and sticky but the breeze coming in through the hotel windows makes it bearable and they stay up all night, whispering Otis Redding lyrics into each other’s skin and taking showers until they’re wrinkled and exhausted just from laughing. They spend the next 4 days doing the exact same thing and Elio wishes, briefly but desperately, that if he could just die _now_ , _right now_ , he would never have to suffer leaving this behind.

 

*

It’s that suffering that makes him ask again in as few words as possible.

“Not yet?”

Oliver speaks his language though and they never needed many words to begin with.

“Not yet.”

He relaxes his shoulders and throws his backpack in the backseat of their rental.

“So where to next then?”

He aims for nonchalance they both know is fake but it’s not about hiding anything from Oliver, it’s acknowledging that they’re moving again, away from the topic and away from this place.

Oliver smiles in gratitude and throws their already worn and weathered map into his face.

“You pick.”

Elio is tempted to pick somewhere three states over just to make sure they have time but he doesn’t want to make things impossible for Oliver.

“I don’t know. I want to see everything.”

_I want everything_ , is what he means. _Everything, before this has to end_. Oliver, less concerned with what’s possible, shrugs and points their car to New Orleans.

 

*

 

They do the swamp boat thing and the river boat thing and they go and have crawfish, which Elio kind of likes, and gumbo, which Elio hates. Oliver snorts beer out of his nose at the look on Elio’s face when he tries it for the first time and if the gumbo wasn’t making him choke his lungs out, then the look of adoration on Oliver’s face would have.

 

*

 

After New Orleans, it’s not a very great distance to the Florida Keys, or so Oliver tells him, and Elio can only nod in gratitude.

They stay for a while because the Keys are colourful and welcoming and everyone there seems fine with whatever is going on around them as long as the sun is out, the music’s on and the drinks keep coming. They keep to themselves because it’s what they want but they rent a little boat and spend a day away from the touristy hot spots, steering their new-found heaven into a small alcove close to the rental station and they stay there until it’s an hour past their return time. They pay the late fee and grin all the way back to the hotel.

They do the same on every little island and Elio feels his life, the one he knows is waiting for him unchanged, roll further and further away from him. He tries to see himself as he was before this summer and comes up blank.

He asks Oliver one afternoon, feet dangling over the side of the boat into cool water, if Oliver can still conjure up himself before this, before _them_. Oliver lowers his chin to let his sunglasses fall of his face and raises his eyebrows.

“Why would I want to?”

Elio thinks that’s as good an answer as any and doesn’t waste more time on the issue.

 

*

 

Elio knows that Oliver is trying not to _go back_ , so instead of going back up, through the Carolinas and Pennsylvania, like Elio expected, he turns the car back around and drives them to Vegas.

 

*

 

In Vegas, they go for Caesar’s Palace because it makes them both laugh to actually see it there in all its gaudy pride. Neither of them have ever been and they marvel at the Strip and its endless possibilities and the way people don’t hide their desires, instead flaunting them for all the world to see.

It makes it easier for them to be who they are together, even if just a little. Everywhere they look, there’s people attracting more attention than they ever could. It makes Oliver pull Elio in closer than before, his hand drifting past his body, light touches every time they move.

Elio wants to tuck himself into Oliver’s body, press his nose into Oliver’s neck and inhale. He saves it for when they get back into their room though, his arms coming around Oliver’s neck, pulling himself up a little as Oliver’s hand come down to his ass to pull him up.

It feels like this sometimes, like he can’t breathe properly even though everything is fine and all he wants to focus on is his body up against Oliver’s, on their clothes coming off so he can feel skin on skin. Oliver’s skin is warm from the heat outside and he smells like sunscreen. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend they’re in _heaven_ , the cicadas and peaches never far away.

But then he opens his eyes and sees bright blue staring into his, a little frown to show that Elio’s internal struggle didn’t go unnoticed, and he knows that he doesn’t need the cicadas and the peaches, not today. Today, he’s got sunscreen and the taste of cheap champagne and warm, warm skin under his hands and that’s heaven too.

 

*

 

They linger in Vegas. They’re not in a hurry to get back to the real world as it is, and Vegas is as far removed from any normal world they could possibly find, away from Crema. They go unnoticed here, allowed to keep their own rhythm, sleeping in and ordering room service. They go out but they ignore most of the touristy things this time, spending their time walking around, weaving in and out of casinos and pool decks and past stage doors, fingers intertwined.

 

*

 

They go to Grand Canyon because neither has ever been there either and it seems a given. This time it’s Oliver who demands the 4 am alarm for a sunrise adventure. Elio doesn’t want to be as impressed as he is, but standing there, the enormity of nature silences him. OIiver looks around them, the way he always does, but they’re alone on this little bit of rock so Oliver moves to stand behind him, his arms coming down over Elio’s chest. Elio grabs hold of them, too tightly to be casual, and presses his entire body back against Oliver. They stay like that until the sun comes up and they hear voices to remind them they’re not alone in the world.

I love you, Elio thinks but doesn’t say.

 

*

 

After Vegas, they have no choice but to make their way back up. There’s no other way to go.

They take the long way though, Oliver demanding they go see Mount Rushmore even though neither of them really cares.

It’s a good part of the trip though because the road there is pretty much abandoned. They stop for a picnic sort of lunch by the side of the road and spend hours making out like teenagers in the backseat of the car. Not one car drives by. It’s quiet and not-quite-cold and Oliver’s fingers tracing circles on his back, his belly, his cock, make Elio feel soft and warm and loved. He will want to come back to this moment for the rest of his life. He’s okay with that knowledge, he knows this is ruining him. He’s not sure he wants Oliver to feel the same or not, though, not wanting him to hurt but wanting to mean enough to Oliver to cause such pain at the same time.

They have to drive on at some point and right before he starts the car, Oliver grabs his hand and kisses his neck, the tip of his nose, his palm.

It’s an _I love you_ , like any other moment on this trip is, and Elio can hear it loud and clear. The thing is that it was never about doubting that, not after this summer, not after Bergamo, not after “come with me”.

It’s that love is not enough. There is no way around it. Oliver has a life here, one with obligations and expectations and Elio doesn’t know all that much about it but he does know Oliver has to go back to it. And he has to go to school himself. To college. Yes, he could do that in New York, that is an option available to him but how could he even contemplate such things? How, when they were never supposed to be anything, not even when they became something. They were never supposed to leave that berm, heaven, Crema, Italy. But they’re here now and everything’s different but _they’re_ the same.

They’re Oliver and Elio and Elio and Oliver.

How is he supposed to leave it behind, to leave it anywhere, when he takes it with him wherever he goes?

He manages to push the thought away for a few more hours but when he wakes up in the middle of the night, Oliver’s by the window. The view is breathtaking in the day but there’s no lights outside and so he knows for a fact Oliver’s standing there, staring at nothing.

Perhaps that’s problem. No matter how hard he tries to look into the future and see them, he can only see nothing.

“Oliver?”

At the sound of his name, Oliver startles, he turns a bit but not completely. Halfway out the door.

Elio forgets what he was going to say or if he was going to say anything at all.

“I don’t want it to end yet. Not yet.”

Oliver, for all his aloofness, can’t hide his emotions as well now that his walls have come down and Elio has taken the time to see past them. It’s the little pull at the corner of his mouth that tells Elio all he needs to know.

  
“It has to, though. Doesn’t it? That’s what you’re going to say.”

He tries to keep his age out of his voice, perhaps he even succeeded. Oliver turns to face him fully, his back leaning against the windowsill.

“I keep trying to think of a way……I keep…I keep trying to see a way for us to…but..”

“But you see nothing?”

“You too?”

They’re silent until Elio can’t stand it anymore. He was always going to give this his all. All he is belongs to Oliver and they both know this. What’s the point in playing it cool if it fools no one?

“I could go to college here.”

Oliver’s head, lowered in defeat at Elio’s admission, shoots back up. He doesn’t say anything but the look on his face makes Elio rush his words.

“If….I…I mean. If you want me…if you would still want me then…”

It takes less than a second for Oliver to get back into bed. His arms come around Elio’s shoulders, pulling him in.

“I will always want you. Always, Elio.”

He pulls back and ducks his head to catch Elio’s eyes.

“ _Oliver_. Always.”

Oliver lowers them both to the bed, presses his face into Elio’s stomach, biting softly at the skin, shaking his head in denial of the conversation. Elio knows the feeling.

 

*

 

They’re back on the road already, presidents of former glory in the past, where they belong. The rear-view mirror shows only the open road and Oliver’s voice is soft and thoughtful.

“Would _you_?”

“What?”

“Would you still want me?”

It’s only at that that Elio bothers to really look at him.

“That’s an absurd question.”

That corner pulls at his mouth again, his eyes a shade darker.

“It isn’t.”

“Okay, maybe it isn’t. But I will always want you, Oliver.”

He grabs Oliver’s hand and demands his attention, the car coming to a stop despite them being the only car around.

He takes both of Oliver’s hands now, hides his face in them, kisses both palms. A page from a better book.

“ _Elio._ Always.”

He throws himself forward, his hands fisting cotton, pressing his lips to Oliver’s.

“Always, always, always. Always.”

He repeats it, the word and the kisses, until Oliver laughs and kisses him properly, tongue soft but demanding, his large hands roaming over Elio’s back.

 

*

 

Hours after that, when they’re sated and naked and pressing cold soda cans to overheated faces, their bodies sweaty and tired and pressed close together, he dares to ask.

“Is it over, then, now? Do we go back?”

He waits for Oliver to stiffen or turn to him, or sit up. Any sign that this is about to turn serious. An announcement of the end.

None of that happens. Oliver’s fingers just grip his a little tighter.

“Not yet.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Luca mentioned wanting the sequel (that better be happening) to take place in different locations in the US so undoubtedly that’s what inspired this. I just woke up with this mapped out in my head and sat down to write it.  
> I have a soul sucking job and I hate Mondays. If you’re the same, I hope this helped.


End file.
